


My Hands are Cold, But My Heart is Gold

by Smokeringsanddeadkings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Mutant Powers, Mutants, My grammar is atrocious fyi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, X-men AU nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeringsanddeadkings/pseuds/Smokeringsanddeadkings
Summary: A boardinghouse, deep in the heart of a small town, housed a secret lust fueled affair between that of an once innocent minor, desperate for love and a predator in every sense of the word behind one door and an anxious adolescent striving for perfection while attempting to hold the strings of their crumbling family ties together and maintaining the image of perfection behind another.About twenty miles south, a man rules over a rising empire with an iron fist. His only companion the memories of his long gone family.On the opposite side of town in a dark sprawling estate, a family mourns the loss of their child who doubled as their eldest and heir. Practically invisible to their grieving parents the new, reluctant heir juggles with their own grief as well as hallucinations completely of their own variety.Twenty five miles from the outskirts of town, a prison houses a mad man, a tyrant, and a loose canon. All of then betrayed by those closest to them.Sinister secrets are sewn into the very soil of the seemingly innocent town and the arrival of fresh blood unearths them. Welcome to Riverdale: The Town with Pep!





	My Hands are Cold, But My Heart is Gold

17 DAYS, 22 HOURS, 46 MINUTES, 13 SECONDS.

Veronica sits primly in an overstuffed arm chair, ankles crossed, back straight, hands resting atop her knees, while the adults yell back and forth as though she isn't sitting right in front of then as they argue about her presence.

"She's the daughter of a known criminal! A criminal who has been gunning for us since day one, how are we suppose to know whether or not she's a mole?" A blond man shouts, his face red and nostrils flared.

"Our parents do not define who we are as people, Hal." A brunet man retorts. "Besides, it's against the school's policy to turn away one of our kind in need."

Hal opens his mouth to respond and Veronica sighs loudly, drawing the attention of both men. She had listened to them bicker like children for long enough.

"If either of you had an ounce of common sense, one of you would have read the letter I gave to you when I arrived," Veronica says sharply, "but since obviously that is not the case with you bunch. To paraphrase, the letter is from my mother reminding you that she is the true owner of the Pembrooke and it is a privilege that she allows you to look after and maintain it in her absence. I mean it would take an actual idiot to refuse sanctuary to the daughter of the woman providing your sorry asses with a job and a home, right?" A chill spreads through her gloved hands. She breathes through her nose to calm herself. Who did these buffoons think they were?

Hal and the other man shift uncomfortably, unable to meet her eyes. "I'll call for an ambassador to show you around and where you'll be staying," the brunet, clearly the more likable of the two, says making a placating gesture.

Veronica smiles victoriously and pulls out her phone. Her mother had been right, a little brow beating and these pompous fools would cave like chastised children. 

A soft knock draws Veronica's attention. A blonde girl about her age, wearing a soft yellow blouse stood in the doorway. Ah, she must be the ambassador. Veronica rises smoothly to her feet, bag in hand, and approaches the blonde with a smile.

"Veronica Lodge," the raven says extending a single gloved hand. "And you are?"

The blonde returns her smile and shakes her hand. "Betty Cooper, and I'll be showing you around if you don't mind."

"Lead away."

Betty turns on her heel and strides out into the hall. She leads Veronica down the large spiral staircase and stops in the middle of the entry hall.

"I hope those two didn't give you too much trouble," Betty says apologetically.

"Don't worry, it was nothing I couldn't handle," Veronica assures.

"Alright, good. Welcome to the Pembroke. It has served as a sanctuary and training facility for young mutants in need since the 50's,"Betty explains, setting off at a sedate pace. "Here we are taught how to control our abilities, survive in the real world, and the history of our people."

Veronica already knew all of this from the briefing her mother had given her before she left, but she allowed the other girl to continue regardless. "Where is everyone at?" Veronica asks, noting the empty halls.

"It's Thursday, so most people are in class," Betty answers, glancing at Veronica. "I'm taking you to my mother so that she can get a good read on your ability and figure out the best course of action for you."

Veronica wasn't so sure how she felt about that. So far, her experience with adults here had not been pleasant. Perhaps Betty's mother would be as kind and welcoming as her daughter.

Betty pushes open a big oak door at the end of the hall and shoots Veronica an encouraging smile. Veronica steps into the room, slowly taking it in. There were tables for two set up in rows and a large dark at the front of the room in front of the whiteboard. It was clearly a classroom if the kids sitting at the tables staring at them was anything to go off of.

Betty ignores the stares and walks over to the blonde woman at the front of the class. "Mom, this is Veronica, our new student."

Mrs. Cooper looks at Veronica with a distaste. Veronica sighs. Great, another person who disliked her on sight.

"Well Ms. Lodge, I'm going to get a read on you, then ask you a few questions." Mrs. Cooper stands in front of Veronica and grabs her gloved ones with a look of concentration.

Veronica awkwardly makes eye contact with Betty, trying to pretend she wasn't holding hands with a strange woman that she had just met.

Mrs. Cooper releases her hands with a noise of surprise. "When did your ability first manifest?"

"A few months ago."

The older woman's expression shifts into one of horror. "And how old are you?"

"I turned sixteen in February," Veronica answers, confused by the woman's alarm.

Frenzied whispering breaks out amongst the students.

"And what is it that you're able to do, Ms. Lodge?" Mrs. Cooper asks, sounding as though she's dreading the answer.

Veronica removes her black satin glove from her left hand and faces her hand palm up. She gently eases her rubber band tight control back a bit. A layer of frost covers her hand. 

The whispering and all other talking ceases. The room was so quiet, she swore she could hear a pin drop. Everyone, Betty looks overwhelmed and a bit sick, stare at her in abject terror.

"We're all going to die this time!" A panicked voice shouts.

Betty, having recovered, glares at the speaker. "Shut up Dilton! No one is going to die."

Voices rise, everyone trying to shout over each other and Betty recoils as if she's been slapped, hands clutching her head.

Veronica was fucking fed up of all these rude ass people. She had done nothing wrong and yet she was being treated like some sort of criminal. She flips everyone the bird before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

()())()()()()()())()

Veronica was loathe to admit that she had gotten lost in the large Victorian mansion. She had given up trying to find the dormitories and had wandered around for about fifteen minutes before she had stopped at her current location.

In front of her was a charred door, barely hanging on by the hinges. Why was the door ruined and the rest of the school untouched? Veronica had always been curious and unable to turn away from a mystery. This was no exception.

She carefully pushes open the door and slips inside. The inside was no better than the outside. The walls were blackened and barely standing, the floor had giant holes in it, the furniture was burned and some so twisted that she couldn't determine what it had originally been. The smell of smoke still hung in the air. It was clear that a fire had happened, but why hadn't the damage been repaired? 

"Veronica." She jumps at the sound of her own name and turns around. 

Betty stands in the burnt threshold, not daring to come any closer. "I'm really sorry about what happened earlier. Everyone overreacted."

"Yeah, you included," Veronica says coldly. Her fingers begin to tingle.

"Veronica, I'm an Empath," Betty states, looking at her meaningfully. Veronica had no idea what the hell an Empath was and it must show on her face. "It means that I can feel everyone's emotions around me. The larger the group, the more it's amplified." The blonde explains. " When everyone started freaking out, I got overwhelmed and felt sick. It's sort of like sensory overload."

Well that explained the head grabbing and sick look. "Betty, you're a likeable person. You probably don't know what it's like to have people hate your guts just because of who you are."

"They don't hate you. They're just afraid of what you can do and what you could become," Betty says earnestly.

"So they're afraid that I'm going to become my father? Great," Veronica snorts derisively.

Betty shakes her head, looking so sad that Veronica almost feels bad. "No, a mutant usually manifests their ability at age six at the latest, anything beyond that and you're assumed normal. About four or five years ago, a mutant family moved in, a mother and two children. The mother and daughter had powers, but the son didn't and he was past the manifestation age so we assumed he wasn't a threat. Everything was good for a while, no problems. Then two years ago, completely out of the blue, the boy literally lost his mind. He started screaming that we killed his family and were trying to cover it up." Betty meets Veronica's eyes. "Certain emotional events can kick start your powers if it's strong enough. It didn't matter that his family wasn't actually dead because in his mind it had actually happened. So, the angry, traumatized boy's ability happened to be pyrokinesis: Fire. I don't truly know if he lost control or if it was intentional, but the boy set the entire Eastern wing of the building on fire before he could be subdued and taken away. We were all told that his stunted ability ate away at his mind driving him insane slowly."

Veronica is dumbstruck. So that's why everyone was angry or afraid. They were all expecting her to turn into a raving, delusional lunatic. Great. Goosebumps raise on her arms as a thought strikes her. "Betty, why was the rest of the house fixed except for this room?"

Betty presses her lips together unhappily. "This was the boy's room. It's here to serve as a reminders what happens if we lose control and the devastation that it can cause."

Veronica shudders and exits the room as fast as humanly possible. Betty places a hand on her shoulder. "Prove all of those jerks wrong. Show them that you're different by learning to control your powers. You've got moxie, I believe in you."

"Thank you, Betty." Veronica hugs the taller girl.

"Come on, I'll introduce you my friends. I promise none of them are douches. We've had enough drama for the day," Betty laughs, tugging Veronica along. "Oh, and by the way, I have had people hate me for who I am. You haven't had the pleasure of meeting the Blossoms."

"Well, if they hate someone as sweet as you, I'm sure that they're terrible people."

()())()()()()()()()()))))()

17 DAYS 13 HOURS 5 MINUTES 54 SECONDS

Cheryl navigates the empty corridor with a lit candelabra as her guide. The house was quiet, dark, and still. Her parents had retired to their room hours ago and as usual she was alone, up to her own devices.

She descends the staircase, clutching her light source. Her steps echo against the polished wood, the only sound besides her breathing in the silent house. She easily navigates her way across the house she grew up in, making her way out the back door.

The grass crunches under her feet as she makes her way to the family tomb. Cheryl stops before it reading the inscriptions. She trails her fingers along the newest name set in stone.

JASON BLOSSOM, BELOVED SON AND BROTHER: August 5, 1999 - July 4, 2017

She had celebrated their joint birthday alone. Well celebrate was too strong of a word. She had sat alone in her room and cried with a bottle of tequila as her only party guest.

Even now, Cheryl couldn't help herself from worrying. Jason had promised once he was safe and had settled in with Polly that he would contact her. Two months of radio silence paired with her twinstinct telling her something was up had her quite distraught. 

Something had been telling her to come see her brother's faux grave, but she had been able to push away the urge for the better part of the day. Well at least until she had settled in for bed. The urge was like an itch that was begging for a scratch, so she had reluctantly given in. Now here she stood in front of her brother's grave with a horrible feeling she couldn't shake.

A chill settles over, raising goosebumps on her uncovered arms. She really should be getting back to bed. Cheryl turns back towards the main house and comes face to face with person. The person turns out to be a young woman with stark white hair despite her young age and a desperate look in her green-blue eyes. "Save him!" The woman pleads, reaching towards Cheryl.

Cheryl recoils with a scream. The woman herself looks sad and alarmed. "Save him," she says one final time before blowing out Cheryl's candle. 

Cheryl drops the candelabra and sprints back towards the house at top speed. She throws open the door and scurries inside before throwing it closed behind her. Who was that woman? How did she get into Thorn Hill? 

Cheryl looks up sharply at the sound of footsteps and her breathing picks up. Has the woman found a way inside? Instead her mother appears and she relaxes a bit. 

Penelope looked visibly upset. "What's wrong, Mommy?" Cheryl asks timidly.

Penelope swallows thickly, "The sheriff called. They just pulled your brother's body from Sweetwater river. We're heading down to meet him now." Penelope turns on her heel and exits, leaving Cheryl alone.

Cheryl crashes to the ground, unable to breathe. It felt as though all the air had disappeared. Penelope's words had torn a ragged, gaping hole in her chest that pulled painfully each time she gasped for air that just wasn't there.

Jason couldn't be dead. He was coming back. He had sworn that he would come back. Her twin, her brother, her protector, her lifelong companion couldn't be gone forever. He couldn't.

Tears flow freely from her eyes as her vision begins to go dark around the edges. Nonononono. This was not real. This is not happening. 

"It's just a bad dream, its just a bad dream, its just a bad dream, itsjustabaddream,"she chants, desperate to believe herself. 

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. The darkness welcomes her like an old friend. 

()()()())()()()()()()()()(()

Veronica sits on her new bed, mentally reviewing the day's events while Betty puts on lotion.

After the burnt room fiasco, Betty had introduced her to a couple of nice people. Her closest friends had both been absent. Kevin was preparing for a date and Archie had his private music sessions.

Ignoring the stares and whispering directed at her had been easier with Betty by her side. Classes weren't so bad, surprisingly she found History of Mutants interesting, and the recreation area was very nice as well. She could definitely see the appeal, but there was one thing missing - her mother. She hadn't seen her mother in about a week and the only communication with her was through text every couple of days. Hermione had promised to join her after she 'tied up some loose ends', but hadn't given her a time frame for how long that would take.

Betty clicks off the light and crawls into her bed across from Veronica's. Veronica was glad that she was roommates with the kind blonde.

"Betty?" There was something that kept bugging her.

"Yes?"

"What happened to the boy's mother and sister?"

Betty pauses and silence hangs in the air for a tense moment. "I don't know. My mom thinks that the mother saw signs of madness and decided to cut her losses and run, like her son was so unrecognizable that she couldn't stand to see him that way and the person he had become." Betty shifts, sheets rustling. "I hope wherever they are that they're happy."

"Goodnight B."

"Goodnight V."

Veronica sleeps fitfully throughout the night, dreams of her mother never returning haunting her, so the early morning intrusion is a welcome surprise.

Across from her, Betty jerks up from her reclined position and looks around the room, clearly on high alert as their bedroom door is thrown open. A teenage boy alight with excitement stalks in and Betty relaxes.

"Someone better be dead for you to have busted in here like that at this time of night, Kevin."

Kevin nods frantically. "Someone is. They found Jason Blossom's body in the river finally, but get this: the cause of death wasn't drowning, but rather a gun shot wound to the head."

Veronica doesn't know who Jason is, but murder in a town this small was serious. Betty's jaw hits the floor. "That means that Cheryl lied. Jason was murdered and his killer is on the loose ." Betty turns to Veronica. "We're all in danger."

()())()()()(()()()(((()

"Why didn't you send them? It could have saved him!" Forsythe screams, pounding his fists against the door. "He could've lived!"

Garrison, his least favorite guard, bangs his baton against the cell. "Stop your rambling ! There is no boy, it's just your usual delusions. Besides, even if he was real, he wouldn't want you writing him letters, you psycho."

Forsythe ceases his assault on the door and slides to his knees. A boy was dead and he had known it was coming months in advance and had failed to warn the ginger teen. Now he was dead at the bottom of a lake, and the raven didn't even know his name.

"We're upping your dosage again after that display, Jones!"

Ugh. Those freaking suppressants made him feel like a zombie when he actually took them. Most days he shoved his finger down his throat the minute the supervisor turned their back and forced the pills from his body, which was painful and quite gross.

His upper lip begins to feel warm and sticky. He touches it and his fingers come away red and tacky. Great, another nose bleed. Just what he needed to top of his shitty night. The only thing missing was a migraine.

Forsythe had to do better. No more harm would come upon a person if he could help it. 

()()()()()()()((()()

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unedited mess. I'll fix it later. Feel me to leave a review on the way out.


End file.
